Covens
by LaLaFilly
Summary: I was initiated into Raziel's Coven. I serve my coven by performing Rituals of Death. I am a Hunter, and there is a war. We are enemies with the other vampire covens. In order for my coven to become the ruling coven, we must kill off all who oppose us.
1. Murder On The Dancefloor

Deanna leaned against the wall, tugging absently at the glove that encased her hand.

The lights reflecting of the disco ball pulsed over her body, the music throbbing in her skull. She shifted, her bare back scraping lightly on the rough wall as the bangles around her wrist rang.

"Do you see them yet?"

She shook her head, her dark eyes piercing through the darkness of the dancefloor. Every detail was open to her; the sweat glistening on the dancers' bodies, the flowing waves of hair, the thrashing arms and legs.

Blake swore beside her, running a hand through his charcoal hair.

In her bag, her phone vibrated.

It was at her ear in seconds.

"What is it?"

"Can you see the subject?"

"Yes," Deanna replied coldly, her eyes fixing on one figure.

"Kill her."

With a nod, Deanna snapped the phone shut. She turned to Blake, who grinned, darting into the mass of bodies.

Sliding the phone into her handbag, Deanna stepped forward, her heels silent on the glistening floor.

She weaved across the dancefloor, until she was behind the girl.

Her golden hair glowed in the darkness like a beacon, floating around her head as she bobbed to the beat.

Deanna's hand slipped into her bag, her dark fingers closing around a handle.

"Murder on the dancefloor," she muttered under her breath, before throwing the dagger.

It hit the girl in the back, driving between her ribs to pierce her pulseless heart.

Screams pierced the air as the girl crumpled to the floor, but Deanna had already moved.

Her feet pounded on the concrete walkway as she ran, Blake behind her.

Her black hair streamed in the soft wind as her brown skin gleamed in the moonlight.

The two ducked down an alleyway, diving behind a dumpster as police cars screamed past, their lights flashing.

"You hit her?" Blake asked.

"Between the ribs," Deanna replied, peeking around the corner. "Couldn't have missed."

"Come on, let's go," Blake ordered, navigating around trash as he entered deeper into the alley.


	2. The Perfect Thing To Say

Crevan looked up expectantly, his blue eyes piercing.

"Don't worry; she's dead," Blake said boredly, dropping his weapons bag onto the table.

Deanna dropped into an armchair, digging her heel into the table and slipping the knife from the holster on her leg.

Crevan nodded silently, picking up a gleaming dagger. "Was it you?"

"No, Deanna killed her."

"Ah," Crevan's eyes rose to her. "Well done. May I ask how you killed her? Was it the throat-?"

"The heart. Between the ribs."

Crevan nodded, sliding a thin katana from Blake's bag. He raised his eyebrows.

Blake crossed his arms defensively. "I like my swords. I'm sorry if you have a problem with that."

Crevan smiled, his fang tips showing.

The door burst open, and the three hunters looked up in suprise.

"You're finally back," a Corbett drawled, striding into the room. "It took you long enough. Is one little vampire brat so hard to kill?"

"We weren't given permission to kill her until after about half an hour," Deanna snapped, flinging the knife into the table, where it wobbled from the impact.

"So? That's your job, isn't it? You were created to hunt. That is your one purpose," Corbett snarled, his fangs glistening in the dim light. "You owe your life to my father and this coven, and so you will serve it with all your being. Without us, you would be a rotting corpse under six feet of soil."

Deanna narrowed her eyes at him, jumping from her armchair. "And what about you? Do you not want to be the next leader to the ruling coven? You depend on us to kill those opposing covens. If I was in my grave right now, you would be fighting to survive! But because I am here, because you created me, you and your friends can sit and twiddle your thumbs, without a care in the world. If you don't like how I kill people, or how long I take, then find someone else. I'm sure the Deminskis would encourage my hunting than you."

Corbett narrowed his eyes, his lips thinning. "Know your place, brat."

He stormed out, slamming the doors behind him.

"Deanna, that was not the best-" Crevan said quietly.

"It was the perfect thing to say," Deanna snapped. "He needs to learn his place. Just because he's Xavier's son doesn't mean he can insult us!"

"I hate to say this," Blake sighed, "but he's the future ruler of the coven. And so we have to show respect to him."

Deanna glared. "Fine," she hissed, "go play his little pet for the night."

She shoved open the window and jumped out. She tugged her high-heels off, before setting off at a run.

Anger burned through her, and tears blurred her perfect vision.

They agreed with him? Blake and Crevan believed that she should just bow down and grovel at his feet?

Deanna slowed to a walk, her feet crunching on dead leaves.

She absently traced the two holes beneath her dark hair.

Memories swirled in her head, forming into a flickering mass of images.

She remembered her initiation. Her rebirth. Her first moment as a vampire.

...

The rose petals were soft on her fingers, and the black sleeves of the dress protected her from the chill of the night. The full moon shone down on her, bathing the vampires around her in an eerie glow.

Crevan slid a dagger into her trembling fingers, and she looked at it curiously.

It was beautiful. Skulls wearing crowns of roses were carved onto the hilt, and words in Latin wove between them. The blade glowed in the light, and the hilt felt as if it were made for her hand.

"Those who embrace the night, will live for ever in eternal glory," the vampire-priest said.

Xavier bent down, brushing aside her rivers of dark hair. His mouth lowered to her neck, and there was a sharp burst of pain as his fangs penetrated her skin.

She gasped, her heart rate rapidly increasing.

She clutched the rose in her palm, and the thorns dug into her hand, drawing blood. Her fingers were white around the dagger, which trembled in her unsteady hand.

Xavier drew back, his mouth clean, but his skin tinged with pink.

"Take my blood," he said quietly, his voice strong and steady. It calmed her. "And you will live with me forever."

She brought his wrist to her lips, and bit down.

The blood was warm in her mouth, and she swallowed, releasing Xavier.

Her throat burned with pain, and her heart beat at an impossible rate. She gasped in air, terrified.

Fire burned through her body, and she clenched her fists, struggling not to scream.

There was a sharp burst in her head, and she fainted.

...

Deanna sighed, stopping to lean against the trunk of a tree.

The initation process had been set out thousands of years ago, when the first vampire had been created. It was long, and many items were needed for it to succeed, but the method also prevent accidental initiations.

Vampires could feed without fear of creating new vampires. The items - the rose, the dagger, the ceremonial gown - took years to perfect, and the money involved was staggering. But it kept the social status of the covens consistent.

The smaller, less wealthy covens could only perform an initiation when they had earned enough money to fund the rebirth. An initiation could only take place under to full moon, and one reborn to each vampire. The smaller covens could manage a handful of rebirths a year.

But the wealthier covens, like Raziel's coven, were large and produced enormous amounts of money.

Every month, under the full moon, the vampires of Raziel's coven had assembled to turn a human. They could double their coven's population in a single night.

But they soon discovered that they were envied for their wealth and numbers, and so were preyed upon. Xavier, the leader of Raziel's coven, divided the coven into two groups; the Nobles, and the Hunters. The vampires that contributed most the coven were given the title of 'Nobles', while the healthiest were trained and named 'Hunters'.

Xavier wanted to bring all of the covens together, but the other covens refused. So Xavier met their refusal with force.

And so the hunters set out to murder members of the other covens, to deminish their numbers.

Deanna plucked a dying leaf from a branch and shredded it in her fingers.

With a sigh, she set off for the Raziel coven's mansion. Her home.

The wind played with her hair, spinning it around her face, and the leaves crackled under her bare feet. She wove through the forest, ducking under the branches of low trees until she reached the edge, where she froze.

At her feet, it's skin grey, and blood smeared across it's chest, lay a vampire.


	3. Guilty Of Treason

Deanna leapt over the corpse, bolting towards the building.

The back door was open, and the windows smashed. She wove around the warped black wood, and darted towards the front rooms. Shards of glass littered the floor, sparkling like drops of water in the moonlight. Blood was smeared across the walls and floors, and bodies lay dead or dying on the floor.

Deanna picked up a fallen dagger as she slid silently into the communal room.

Chaos reigned.

Fangs shone in the dim light cast by the few unbroken lamps. Weapons clashed, and screams pierced the air.

Deanna stared around in horror.

How many attackers were there? Twenty? Fifty?

A child's terrified squeal snapped her head around. A vampire boy cowered as an attacker bore down on him, sword in his large hand.

Her dagger hit him in the neck, severing his jugular vein and skimming through his windpipe.

The vampire choked, before crumpling as Deanna ran forwards, tugging the child to his feet.

"Listen to me," she said, her senses alert to danger as she clutched the boy's shoulders. "I want you to find Xavier. Do you know where Xavier is?"

The boy nodded, his brown curls bobbing.

"Run to him. Listen to the hunters protecting him. Don't stop, and don't hide. Just run. Do you understand?"

The boy whimpered, his brown eyes wide, before he darted into the shadows, keeping to the edges of the fight.

Deanna jerked the sword from the vampire's fingers, stepping into the fray once again.

The weapon was light in her grasp, and well-balanced. It plunged into an unsuspecting vampire's back with a flash of silver. The woman screamed, her back arching as her legs collapsed.

Deanna drew the sword back out and swung it around. It hit the vampire firmly in the neck, cutting off her horrified shrieks.

"Run!" Deanna shouted to the mother vampire, who nodded her thanks, leaping up with her baby in her arms.

Suddenly, a male shout broke through the clash of swords and daggers.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

The answer was instantaneous. Vampires turned, their bloodied weapons still in hand, and bolted for the exits, leaving the Raziel coven's members in shock.

Deanna hissed, spinning the sword in her palm.

With a gasp, she hurled it at a retreating shadow.

The vampire crumpled with a squeal, its heart pierced.

She spun around to face the rest of Raziel's coven.

"Find Xavier now," she ordered, running to help a wounded Hunter.

He smiled when he saw her. "Very nice work for one so young."

She nodded silently, helping him limp across the floor stained with blood and littered with bodies.

The coven assembled in the communal room; the largest of the mansion's rooms.

Sobs filled the air, occasionally drowned out by the chatters of the survivors.

"Silence!" Xavier shouted, and was obeyed instantly. "Tonight we were attacked. The vampires have been identified as members of the Deminski, Polarii and Nambar covens. We ask that if anyone has information on why we were attacked, may they step forwards."

"I do," a voice snarled.

Corbett mounted the stage, anger distorting his features.

"An hour before we were attacked, I had an arguement with Deanna, a hunter of the fifty-seventh division. She stated that she was sure the Deminskis would encourage her hunting more than I."

Gasps echoed around the room, and Deanna stared in horror.

"Deanna of the fifty-seventh division," Xavier said, "step forwards now."

Deanna cleared her face of all emotion and stepped up beside Corbett.

"Do you have witnesses, son?"

"Yes," Corbett annouced. "Crevan and Blake of the fifty-seventh division."

Xavier turned to them. "Is it true that she said this?"

Blake nodded, not meeting Xavier's eyes.

"Yes, Master," Crevan replied, his blue eyes fixed on the ruler's.

Xavier turned to her, his grey eyes clouded. "Do you deny it?"

"No, I said that. But I didn't mean-"

"Then you are guilty of treason," Xavier interrupted. "You will be incarcerated until further notice."

Deanna stared, his eyes wide with shock.

Two hunters stepped forwards, chaining her hands behind her back.

The cold sting of silver brought her back to her senses.

"What?" she shrieked. "I didn't do anything! I'm not conspiring with the Deminskis or anything!"

"Silence," Xavier hissed, and she bowed her head, anger clear on her face. "The Deminskis will be summoned, and we will demand why they attacked us. Until the meeting, you will wait in the underground chambers."


	4. That Should Get Some Attention

Deanna glanced around the richly furnished room, as the doors clicked shut behind her, followed by the snap of a lock.

A diamond-studded chandelier hung from the high ceiling, sending shards of light sparkling over the glass coffee table and the black leather lounges. A glass-topped table surrounded by a group of chairs stood placidly to her right.

She strode across the room, stopping in front of the coffee table. She nudged it gently with her foot, testing its weight.

With a sudden burst of fury, she snatched up the table, catapulting it across the room, where it shattered, lodging shards of glass into the wall. The explosion echoed around the room as glass pooled at the base of the wall.

Deanna shoved the lounge back from the wall, slipping her dagger from the double-holster on the outside of her left thigh.

She flung it at the chandelier chain, before ducking behind the lounge as glass and diamonds rained down from above, shaking the room with a roar.

Once certain that all the glass had fallen, she jumped up to survey her work. The metal framework of the chandelier lay twisted in the centre of the room, bleeding expensive decorations onto the torn carpet.

With a smirk, Deanna picked up a chair, testing its weight, before slamming it into the glass-topped table. A thick spiderweb of cracks wove across its surface as a snap like thunder broke out.

_That_ should get some attention.

She slid her gleaming dagger from the cascade of broken glass and hid beside the door.

She held her breath as the door slowly opened.

Deanna lunged at the surveyor without seeing who they were.

She held the dagger firmly against his neck before realizing who he was.

"Blake?" she hissed, her eyes widening. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Coming to see why you were being so loud. What did you _do_?" he asked, his eyes running over the mess.

She sighed, biting her lip. "Blake, I'm really sorry for this."

"For wha-" he began, before cutting of abruptly.

The base of the dagger handle slammed into his temple, and he crumpled to the floor.

Deanna tried to ignore the blood pooling under the bruised wound.

He'll live, she told herself fiercely. He's a vampire. He'll live.

She pulled open the door and bolted down the hallway, almost colliding with a Hunter.

He frowned at her. "Can I help you?"

"Umm, yeah," she said, slipping the dagger behind her back. "Do you have any keys?"

His eyes didn't move, but his hand twitched slightly towards his right pocket.

"Wait," he said, eyes narrowing. "Aren't you-?"

She smashed the heel of her hand into his nose, driving it into his brain.

He dropped to the floor with a gasp, unconscious.

She fished his keys out of his pocket, before inspecting them.

"Yamaha YZF-R1," she muttered, setting off for the underground garage.

To call it a garage was an understatement. It more resembled a car park than a garage. Row upon row of black, silver and red cars stretched underneath the mansion.

She headed for the motorcycle section at a steady jog.

A smooth, fully black bike stood under the light, tempting her.

"Oh, yeah," she said with a grin, turning the key in the ignition. Her hand fit perfectly around the throttle, her first two fingers squeezing the brake. She steadied herself on the bike, before slamming her heel onto the kick start.

The motorbike roared to life beneath her, and she grinning, twisting the throttle. The bike jerked smoothly forwards, weaving through the rows to the exit.

The garage doors stood open, allowing the moonlight to stream in.

Deanna revved the engine, laughing as the bike leapt forwards, sending her hair streaming behind her.


	5. I Will Hold You To Your Word

Corbett tensed as the doors opened silently.  
His uncle, the leader of the Deminski coven stepped briskly through, followed closely by his personal guards. Tall, dark-haired and stunningly beautiful, Scarlett followed in a thin-strapped red dress studded with shimmering waves of diamonds.  
She smiled at him, and her blue eyes froze him in place for a moment.  
He blinked, looking away.  
His cousin and he were more genetically different than possible. While his hair was a light, golden blonde, hers was a deep, rich chocolate brown. Her eyes were a strangely hypnotic crystal blue, whereas his were a cold grey that rarely betrayed his emotions. She was a wild party-girl, whereas he was more civilised and professional. They were completely different. Even their fathers were different.  
Xavier bore charcoal black hair fading slightly into grey, whereas his brother Amadeus had a head of mahogany brown locks. But both bore the trademark Deminski eyes; grey and fierce, yet subtle and almost expressionless.  
Amadeus lowered himself into the chair opposite Xavier, and Scarlett took his right. Corbett shifted in his chair, his hand falling lightly to the scabbard at his waist.  
His grey eyes flickered to Sade, his personal guard, who stood in shadow in the background. She shifted, her hand fingering the compacted quarterstaff at her right hip.  
Corbett glanced at Amadeus' security. Ten guards had followed him into the meeting room.  
If a fight broke out, both parties were evenly matched.  
"Dear Amadeus," Xavier said lightly, breaking the silence with the wave of an airy hand, "How joyful I am to see you again."  
"And you, too, brother," Amadeus replied. "I judge all is well?"  
"All was well," Xavier answered. "Before my coven was attacked."  
Amadeus stiffened slightly. "I have spoken with the rebels who led the attack and they have been dealt with accordingly. They will not bother you again."  
"No, they will not," Xavier said, his voice cold. "I assure you of that. And I will hold you to your word."  
Amadeus' eyes turned to stone.  
Corbett glanced between his father and uncle, uneasy.  
Xavier smiled, which seemed out of place in the tense room. "Such aggression. Do you remember when we found that dying stag, all those years ago? And I wouldn't leave because I thought you'd drain it while I was gone? We were so young...emotions last so long, wouldn't you agree?"  
Amadeus' lip curled as he understood the message underlining Xavier's words. "You don't trust us?"  
"Frankly, no. And that is precisely why," he continued. "I propose a Peace Treaty."  
Amadeus started slightly. "A Peace Treaty?"  
Corbett didn't recall a Peace Treaty ever being called, not since the Wars of Dominor in 1066AD. This was unusual.  
"One of your men in return for one of mine," Xavier replied. "If either is murdered, then the coven they formerly belonged to can wage war on the other."  
Amadeus nodded slowly. "I agree."  
Xavier nodded, steepling his fingers, before turning to Corbett.  
"Son, you may choose the Hunter to trade."  
Corbett nodded, rising.  
Once out in the corridor, he paused.  
"Sade?"  
The girl stepped from the shadows. Her emerald green eyes sparkled in the dim light cast by the lamps lining the corridor. She wore black pants that came to her knees and a black singlet that revealed the eye-shaped tattoo on her left shoulder blade.  
"Master?" she asked quietly.  
"Fetch Blake, the hunter of the 52nd Division."  
"And bring him to the meeting room, sir?"  
"Yes," Corbett replied, turning back and entering the room.

Sade jogged silently to the 52nd Division's training room, expecting to find Blake there.  
Instead she found Crevan.  
Although most didn't know it, Crevan was over a hundred years old and one of the most skilled Hunters within Raziel's Coven. He had once been Xavier's personal guard, but had retired to train younger pupils.  
He looked up as she entered, his blue eyes sparkling as he smiled. "Sade, how pleased I am to see you. Is there something I can help you with?"  
She nodded. "Is Blake presently available?"  
His smile fell slightly, a frown replacing it. "No, I'm afraid he isn't. He heard noises from Deanna's holding room and went to investigate. I haven't seen him since."  
"Thank you," Sade replied with a inclination of her head.  
She did indeed find Blake in Deanna's holding room.  
He was lying on his stomach, a faint bruise on his temple fading into the skin.  
She nudged him gently with her foot. He stirred, his eyes blinking open.  
"Where-?" he moaned, before jumping up and staring around. "Is she gone?"  
Sade frowned in annoyance. "It appears so. But we will search for her later. You are needed in the meeting room."  
Blake hesitated, before running a hand through his black hair, nodding. "Okay, let's go."  
They wound through the hallways, passing a guard repositioning his broken nose, until they reached the meeting room.

The moment Blake stepped through the doors, Scarlett caught his attention.  
He paused, staring at her eyes.  
Corbett sighed in annoyance. Scarlett liked to tease boys and there were few who could resist her hypnotic charm.  
Blake frowned, before looking away and moving on to stand beside Xavier. He bowed.  
Annoyance and confusion crossed Scarlett's face, before being replaced by excitement. A challenge; a resistant boy to lure in.  
Xavier gestured to Blake. "Will this Hunter suffice?"  
Amadeus eyed Blake, who stood perfectly still. "He will. I will send one of my own Hunters tonight, and we will return to sign the Treaty. Are we in agreement?"  
Xavier nodded slowly, smiling. "We are."  
Amadeus rose from his seat, followed by Scarlett. "Then we will take our leave."  
As they were leaving, Xavier called out, "How - may I ask - is Aimee?"  
Amadeus turned slowly, smiling. "She is healthy and well, and currently carrying our fifth child."  
"Ah, then congratulations to you both," Xavier replied.  
Corbett tried to recall what his aunt looked like. She looked vaguely like Scarlett; brown hair, blue eyes.  
He rarely got to see his family, mainly due to the fact that they belonged to different sides of the two largest covens fighting for dominance.  
As soon as the Deminski coven's procession had departed, Xavier turned to Corbett, rising.  
"Explain to the Hunter what is to become of him. And warn him of the consequences if he does not obey orders."  
Once alone, Corbett turned to Blake.  
"Congratulations," he said with a grin. "You've just been chosen to take part in a Peace Treaty."  
"A Peace Treaty?" Blake repeated.  
"Its somewhat of a covenant that stops a feud between two covens," Corbett explained boredly. "Amadeus and my father will sign the document, and you will donate some of your blood to the covenant. You will then leave with Amadeus and his men, while a member of the Deminski coven will replace you. You are to serve the Deminski coven as if they were members of Raziel's coven. Amadeus will be your master and any refusal to obey commands or disruption of the coven and you will suffer severely. Are we clear?"  
Blake glared at him for a few moments, before nodding swiftly.  
"Good," Corbett said, standing up. "Sade with show you to your room, and you will collect your belongings, before returning here. I'll see you in three hours."


	6. He Never Trusted Someone's Word

Deanna paused in the doorway to the room, letting the smell of polish and leather waft around her.

The sharp clash of steel biting into steel and the steady thud of weapons hitting targets filled her ears, easing her.

She felt at home here. This was where she could release all her emotions - anger, fear, worry, confusion - and relax into the reassuring rhythm of her daggers striking leather.

She opened her eyes, gazing excitedly around the training room.

Two men were engaged in a sword fight to her left. A black-bladed katana clashed viciously against a silver sword that looked vaguely French.

Rows of arrow men lifted crossbows and steadied them, aiming at the ringed target.

Two women clamped on earmuffs, stepping into a separate room from which Deanna could hear gunfire.

A teenager a few years older than her was practising with a quarterstaff, his golden locks flying as he spun.

Deanna crossed the room, pausing to collect set of gleaming silver daggers.

She faced the padding-coated walls, and settled into her fighting stance.

She let off a string of daggers, watching as they collected in a group two thirds of the way up the wall.

Jerking the daggers out, she turned again and began shooting.

Already her mind was focusing on separate matters, her arms moving automatically.

Questions buzzed through her head.

What had been the purpose of the attack on the coven? Who had prepared the group?

Amadeus Deminski? she asked herself.

No, why would he stage an attack on Raziel's Coven? He was smart enough to know that they wouldn't succeed. The coven would have gone into lock down. Few people would have even died. He would have known they'd fail, so he wouldn't have even tried. But then, if he hadn't organised the attack, who had?

A rebel group.

Deanna recalled seeing members from several other covens alongside the Deminski Coven's vampires.

So a rebel group had attacked Raziel's Coven.

For what purpose? Either they were inexperienced and naive, or they had been paid enough to fight.

One thing was certain; Xavier wouldn't just let a threat like this go.

While she'd been gone, he would have summoned Amadeus and demanded the reason for his attack.

Whatever Amadeus' excuse had been, Xavier wouldn't have bought it. If there was one thing she was sure of with her Master, it was that he never trusted someone's word.

But what would he have done?

He couldn't just murder Amadeus at the meeting; that would have led to a declaration of war. The Deminski Coven would have called in as many other covens they could find to join them. Most of the vampire race would be wiped out.

And Xavier wanted the complete opposite.

He envisioned a world of one coven. He wanted all the covens to join as one major group. If the covens combined, it would create a complete world of peace within the vampires.

Deanna frowned.

So what would he demand of Amadeus?

He wouldn't want a complete destruction of the species; he wanted peace.

Deanna's eyes widened.

The dagger froze in her fingertips as shock coursed through her.

Over 900 hundred years ago, the two covens of the world had begun a battle to determine the greatest coven. It was believed that, in the aftermath of the war, all the covens would be united. But instead, the covens had torn apart. Xavier had fought in that war.

There was only one major set of wars in vampire history; the Wars of Dominor.

She knew exactly what Xavier wanted.

He wanted to finish what he had started. He'd create a Peace Treaty; a bond that linked two covens and suspended any feuds.

And then he'd break it.


	7. Will You Be Able To Kill Him?

Xavier sighed contently, his grey eyes centered on the red-brown liquid swirling in his glass.

He raised it to his lips, turning around to survey the room.

Portraits lined the walls, pictures of kings past. Vampires glared down at him, confined to their golden frames.

He smirked back, gulping down a mixture of alcohol and blood.

He paused in front of one, admiring it.

A tall, armored man stared down at him, his lips twisted in a snarl.

"A friend of yours?" a voice said behind him.

He smiled, not turning around, but knowing what he would see; a woman with a river of straight black hair framing two sparkling green eyes.

"William the Conqueror," Xavier replied. "He was the King of England, and also my father."

He raised his glass in a toast, his eyes traveling to the woman in the next frame.

"Mathilda was my mother. Amadeus and I were his 'unknown sons'. Our parents refused to tell anyone of our existence, because they feared that we would be assassinated. It's not much of a surprise, seeing as all our brothers and sisters were murdered."

"Very true," the woman said, turning and lowering herself onto a couch. She snapped on the lamp.

A bright glare flooded the room, and Xavier turned, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Feenix," he said, inclining his head at his fellow ruler. "A drink?"

"If it would not trouble yourself," she replied, crossing her legs casually.

"Of course not."

He poured her a glass of red wine.

She took a sip.

"A positive?"

"AB positive," Xavier corrected, taking another gulp of his own.

She smiled. "How is Amadeus?"

"He's currently selecting a Hunter to replace my own in a Peace Treaty."

Feenix took another sip of the crimson liquid. "And you plan to attack him while his guards are escorting the Hunter?"

"No, I do not. If I did attack his coven, they would simply go into lock down, and my Hunters would not be able to penetrate through the protection to kill Amadeus."

Feenix smiled. "You plan to attack after the Treaty is signed. You plan to break the Treaty, as did your father."

"Yes," Xavier said, glancing at the portrait. "My father began the Wars of Dominor, but he failed to unite the covens. I plan to finish his work. Once Amadeus' Hunter has been killed, the Treaty will be invalid, and the war will begin. He will be forced to face me in the open. Once I have depleted his numbers, he will either surrender or fight to the death."

"Will you be able to kill him?" Feenix asked.

Xavier paused. "I will regret killing him, but the covens must unite. Too many deaths are occurring. The end must come. This war is the only way for that to happen. If I must kill my brother, then I will do so."

Feenix nodded, lowering her wineglass onto the table. "I will take my leave. I shall meet you again tomorrow night."

The door clicked shut quietly behind her.

Xavier turned the light off. He could see just as well with it as without.

His eyes returned to the paintings of his mother and father. He finished his drink, lowering it down next to Feenix's half-drunk glass.

He suddenly felt old, as if his nine hundred and thirty-eight years were rushing back to him.

He was going to die soon, and he knew it.

He had pushed himself past the average barrier of a second-born vampire. He had already been given an extra hundred and eighty-eight years, and now his body was slowly giving up the fight.

He would probably last the fight with Amadeus, but that would deplete his remaining days greatly.

He smiled grimly, silently moving over to his desk.

An old silver-framed photograph stood placidly on its surface.

He picked it up.

A woman with waves of blonde hair smiled up at him, her blue eyes shining. She wore a simple blue dress that made her eyes look like shimmering sapphires.

Xavier sighed, running a finger down the ornate frame.

"Soon, Alaia," he murmured softly, sinking down into his chair, watching the moonlight sparkle through the window and cast dancing shadows onto the floor. "We'll meet again soon."


	8. The Concepts Of War

Deanna glanced around the empty back foyer, playing with the dagger in her fingers.

Confident that she was alone, she slipped into the building. Where would Xavier be?

He would have had his war meetings by now, and would either be preparing for battle or spending his last moments recalling memories.

She choose the latter, slipping unnoticed through the mansion to Xavier's main study.

Agra stood at the door, eyes scanning the hall warily. Further down the opposite hall were two other Hunters, this time males.

Deanna walked straight up to Agra, ignoring her brown-eyed glare.

"Where's Xavier?" she demanded.

"The Master is busy."

"I don't care. I want to talk to him."

Agra opened her mouth, her eyes flaring with outrage, but was interrupted as Xavier stepped into the hallway, his face blank.

"So you return," he said dryly.

"Stop the war," Deanna ordered, turning to him. "This isn't about uniting the covens - it's about world domination. You just want to rule. You're greedy and cruel and you don't care who has to die to get what you want."

"Do you really think that you - an under-age Hunter - know more about the concepts of war than I?"

"I don't need to know the concepts. It's glaringly obvious that this is corruption of power."

Xavier stared at her, his grey eyes piercing.

"Do you know how old I am?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" Deanna snapped, confused by the change of subject. "What does age have to do with this?"

"I am 917 years old, yet I carry the second-born gene. By every right I should be dead by now, yet I am not. I will die soon, and I cannot deny that. This war cannot be dominance of power, because, as my only heir, Corbett will not be able to sufficiently manage the combined covens. I can either choose for him to have an advisor, or I can create a council. Which do you believe will deliver fairer and wiser guidance?"

Deanna was silent.

"I'm no fool, Deanna. I know when my time has come, and I know how to prepare the world for my departure. I do plan to bring peace among the covens. And even you cannot deny the fact that peace can only be achieved through war. I have personally witnessed this through both vampire and human history. I truly am trying to create a better world for you and my descendants. Imagine how much more prosperous we will be if the covens unite. We will be safer, and shared profits will ensure a constant financial future for all of you. Do you not want what I am offering you?"

Deanna glared at him, annoyed that she had not thought of his motives thoroughly.

"I need to win this war, Deanna, and a war master must have no distractions. You will be escorted to a chamber where Corbett will watch over you. It will keep both you guarded and him away from the battle. Please try to think of the benefits I'm offering you."

"Fine," Deanna said as the two guards headed towards them on Agra's signal. "But answer me this; who did you swap in the Peace Treaty?"

Xavier stared at her, thinking. "Ask Corbett," he said quietly, returning to his study.


	9. Get Bent, Corbett

Deanna crossed her arms, glaring at Corbett as she leaned on the window sill, bathed in moonlight.  
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked smugly.  
"It's like my favourite dream come true," she said in a voice worthy of Corbett's fan club.  
Corbett rolled his eyes. "Just because you love me so dearly doesn't mean you have to shout it to the world."  
"Get bent, Corbett," Deanna snapped, looking away.  
"You can be so heartbreaking sometimes," Corbett said with mock pain, laying a hand over his forehead.  
"I can also slam your nose into your brain," Deanna said with a quick smile.  
Corbett tutted, shaking his head. "I do have handcuffs you know," he mocked.  
"Ooh, how sexy," she sneered.  
He chuckled.  
"Hey, I asked your dad a question earlier, and he said to ask you. Who was the Hunter chosen in the Peace Treaty?"  
Corbett turned to her, his face blank.  
"Blake Lawler."  
Deanna's heart froze.  
Blake? They had chosen Blake? He was going to be forced to fight his fellow Hunters, and would probably die himself. And she'd bet Corbett had chosen him.  
She saw him watching her, and realized he wanted a response.  
A single purpose anchored itself in her mind; get out and find Blake. But first, she had to get past Corbett.  
If she attacked him, he'd call in guards and she'd be chained down. She smiled, her eyelids lowering as her eyes sparkled.  
"Nevermind," she said, brushing aside the news as if it were of no concern. "He didn't have many benifits anyway. You, on the other hand..."  
She placed a hand on his chest, snaring Corbett with her eyes.  
"You are so much better than that piece of junk."  
Guilt tore at her chest at the thought of calling Blake that, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  
She ran a hand through Corbett's blonde locks, slipping her arms around his neck.  
"How about a kiss?" she whispered.  
It worked. She could almost hear his heart thrumming as he leaned closer. Corbett's lips brushed hers.  
Her hand slipped to his belt, his fingers running over a set of handcuffs.  
He froze, his eyes snapping open as he heard the soft click of metal around his wrist.  
Deanna stepped back, smiling.  
Corbett was chained to a cupboard handle.  
"You little-" he snarled, jerking forwards, the chain pulling him up short.  
Deanna picked her dagger from his belt, before turning to the door. She ignored his outraged cries as she ran down the empty hallway.


End file.
